


tore the fear from my bones

by down2thebone (aisu10)



Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Impending Death, Sad, detailed descriptions of skeletons, i like my boys see through, some heart mentions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-03-10 16:25:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13505301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aisu10/pseuds/down2thebone
Summary: trapped and near death, héctor and miguel reflect on their situation.





	tore the fear from my bones

**Author's Note:**

> i know this is a huge departure from the fandom(s) i usually write for but bear with me. the concept of having your body disappear bit by bit until there's nothing but a skeleton left was just too good not to write about.
> 
> this takes place within the movie after (spoiler) ernesto drops héctor and miguel into that sinkhole (and after they’ve realized their family connection). i just gave them a little more time to despair before they are rescued.
> 
> [i made a coco twitter if anyone wants to interact with me there!](https://twitter.com/down2thebone_)

the sinkhole ernesto dropped them into is wet and cold. héctor isn’t too great for warmth, being a skeleton and all, but miguel huddles close to him anyway as they sit on the sand, head resting on his great-great-grandfather’s exposed ribs. héctor holds one of miguel’s hands in his own, running his bony fingers over transparent skin that has almost entirely disappeared by now. a soft sigh exits his mouth.

“how are you holding up, chamaco?”

miguel looks up at him with eyes big and brown as a doe’s. there’s fear in them, but there’s so, so much bravery, too.

“i-i’m alright, i think,” he gulps, looking back down at their intertwined hands. there’s about as much feeling left in his fingers and toes as he has in his teeth — every touch of héctor’s digits registers as nothing but a dull scrape against his barely-there skin. soon there will be nothing left of it, and with it, his life. the thought chills him to his visible bones and he scoots a little closer to héctor, holding tight to his hand.

“...i just don’t know how much time i have left. i’m mostly all see-through now.”

héctor’s brow ridge rises in concern. “all? ay, let me see.”

straightening back up, miguel shrugs off his damp hoodie, then grips the edge of his white tank top and starts to pull it up to his chin. moist as well, it clings to the fading outline of his torso as he lifts it, one of the only things left to prove he still has a living body wrapped around his bones. nearly all of his thin ribcage is visible now, shuddering with measured breaths of restrained fright. there are no organs left inside him to obscure the spine that dips down the curved pelvic bones that peek over the waistband of his jeans; they’ve already faded away with the skin that once held them in, leaving him empty and vulnerable. the boy can’t even look at himself, eyes scrunched tightly closed in denial, and with good reason; it’s a surreal, garish, and utterly wrong sight, a young living boy who should have so much time left hollowed out and clinging to the last vestiges of his mortal form far too soon.

héctor gives a hiss, then pulls miguel closer and helps him tug his shirt back down before tucking his mouth against the top of the kid’s head in a skeletal approximation of a kiss. this shouldn’t be happening to him. but in their current situation, it seems that, despite all injustice, it will.

“it’s pretty bad, isn’t it?” comes miguel’s trembling voice from beneath him as the child wraps his bare arms around himself to hold in impending sobs. héctor does his best to reassure him with a whisper of,

“shh, there’s time before sunrise yet.”

“i-i can’t even feel my heartbeat anymore,” miguel chokes, curling one transparent hand into his shaking chest and feeling nothing press back at it, not even an echo of the familiar rhythm that had accompanied him throughout his life even when all others were banned.

“i haven’t felt mine in decades, mijo,” héctor murmurs. if he could, he would feel it breaking right then. “you get used to it.”

miguel stops hugging himself and wraps his arms around héctor instead, clinging to him as best he can. one hand clutches the back of the vest that hangs from his ribs and the other snakes around his protruding hipbones, doing anything they can to keep him close. héctor wishes his own arms were still made of soft flesh rather than unrelenting bone so that he could give him the comforting hug he needs. they stay like this for a while before miguel pipes up with a wavering little question.

“...what’s it like? being a — a skeleton?”

he doesn’t want to say dead. he can’t. and even though the harsh reality of it lingers heavy over their heads, héctor answers jokingly,

“well, you lose a lot of weight.”

miguel doesn’t seem to appreciate the humor much, and héctor runs his bony fingers through the boy’s hair in apology as he continues, with wistful sincerity,

“you feel a little empty. a little cold. but you’re still there. you’re not all gone yet.”

fears lessened, but not banished, miguel wipes at his watering eyes and sniffs. “soon you’ll be all gone, won’t you?”

“it happens to everyone eventually,” héctor repeats to him, giving his grandson a sad, resigned smile.

miguel buries his head beneath héctor’s last rib, pushing so close his forehead presses against his spine. in a muffled voice he whimpers, “i don’t want you to go.”

“i don’t want to, either. but at least i’ll be with my family until i do.”

héctor can’t bring himself to think of what will happen to miguel after that. instead he resolves to hold him as tight as he can in these moments that may be their last.


End file.
